grooming
by sharingank
Summary: Sakura loves fussing with Sasuke's hair.


Sometimes, when she wakes up in the morning, blinks away the last remnants of sleep and stretches her arms above her head, Sakura expects to find herself alone, as if nothing had changed, as if she were still back in Konoha - wishing, hoping for any sign of the boy she loved even while she kept herself busy, almost too busy, kept her mind occupied with work so she couldn't dwell on what she knew she _shouldn't_ dwell on. Most of the time, she succeeded; her vocation, though physically and mentally exhausting, left her feeling accomplished, filled her with a sense of purpose, and whenever she visited the clinic her heart swelled so much she thought it might burst. There was her legacy, her mark on the world, her proof that all the struggle was worth it. At heart, she was a medic first and a ninja second, and she had her mentor to thank for that.

But she was also only human, and her thoughts did stray in the moments she let her guard down, asking a million questions: Where is he? What is he doing right now? Did he really mean it, when he said he would come back? Is he - thinking about me at all? Have my feelings reached him, and could he, possibly, return them? She had no answers, not a single one. All she had were his fingers tapping her forehead, his there and gone smile when he left her. She hated to admit it, but she clung to those things, tightly.

It was hardest, watching her friends fall in love. She was happy for them, of course she was happy for them - they deserved to move on with their lives and build their own families, their own futures, and she didn't begrudge them that. She just - she wondered if it would ever be her turn, if she'd ever sit with Ino at a restaurant, their heads close together, sharing stories about their relationships and giggling like a pair of naughty children. She wanted that, wanted it more than anything, and it broke her heart to imagine she might never have it. But then she remembered Sasuke was alive in the world, somewhere. She remembered he wasn't in pain anymore, remembered he wasn't lost anymore, and she told herself she could endure, she could be content with what she had.

Except she didn't need to be content.

Everything _had_ changed.

There's somebody beside her now, his face relaxed and smooth in sleep, dark hair ruffled and unkempt - this is how she likes his hair the most, if only because it gives her an excuse to fuss with it. She _loves_ fussing with Sasuke's hair, an activity he is ambivalent toward at best and downright surly about at worst, given how many times he's backed away while shooting her the stink-eye when he can tell her fingers are itching to touch it. Once, he'd even stuck his tongue out at her, and she'd laughed herself sick after the initial shock wore off. (He blushed and grumbled a few choice words under his breath, she recalled, but she was so delighted she smothered him with kisses all over his face, which only made him blush harder.)

Careful not to wake him, Sakura smooths and straightens and arranges, savoring the feel of his hair beneath her fingers, thick and surprisingly silky. She saves his long bangs for last, gently brushes them aside, lingering there with light sweeps of her fingertips. For a moment, she thinks she's been caught when his head slumps to the side nearest her on the pillow, but his breathing remains deep and even and his eyes are still closed. She bites her lip, grinning, continues to stroke his hair - his bangs had fallen into his face again, so she feels obligated to take care of that. And then, when she rises up on her elbow, she notices what a mess the back is, so she feels obligated to take care of _that_ , too.

She doesn't realize he's awake and giving her a thousand-yard stare until she's just about finished; she lets out a very undignified squeak, hastily withdrawing her hand.

Sasuke raises his eyebrows. "What," he says, voice as dry as sandpaper, "is so fascinating about my hair."

Sakura sits up all the way, crosses her arms over her chest, her own eyebrows knit together. She opens her mouth, closes it, purses her lips. "You signed on for this when you married me, Uchiha Sasuke," she declares, blushing. "Don't be such a baby."

He blinks. And smiles a slow, lazy smile that immediately fills Sakura with dread. "I guess I'll shave my head then, Uchiha Sakura."

"You will _not_ ," she bursts out, horrified. "Sasuke-kun! You - take that back!"

"Ah," he says, draping his arm over his eyes in a melodramatic fashion, completely for her benefit, she knows - it was a revelation, acclimating to her husband's sense of humor. "You only love me for my hair."

And just like that, Sakura melts, she always does. Crawling forward, she lifts his arm away, holds his face between her hands. "Sasuke-kun," she says adoringly, kisses his nose, his eyelids, his temples. "You have amazing hair, I love your hair, I really, really do." She kisses his cheeks, his chin. "But I love you more, so if you want to cut it, or," she forces herself to say the words, " - or shave it off, I will still love you very much." She kisses his mouth. "I might insist you sleep on the couch for a while, wherever we make our home, but I will still love you."

He snorts, reaches up to tug on a lock of _her_ hair. "Eloquent."

"I do try," she says, and kisses him again.

"I'm not a cat, though," he informs her when she draws back. "You don't need to groom me like one." He rolls her under him before she can protest, and by that point she doesn't want to at all.

She's going to have so many stories to share with Ino.

* * *

Sasuke is a little shit with Sakura when they're alone together and nobody can tell me otherwise.


End file.
